


Oh No

by TheWaffleBat



Series: Reluctant Home [2]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, And Sokolov, Bad Sex, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Jessamine doesn't know how to peg, Mostly Fluff, Mute Corvo Attano, Pegging, Sex, Shapeshifter Corvo Attano, domestic fluff?, let's be honest he's probably been in the same situation, sorry Corvo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-05 03:26:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17911124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWaffleBat/pseuds/TheWaffleBat
Summary: This was more difficult than she'd thought it was going to be, and she scowled down at Corvo's strong back. She couldn't feel anything, not like Corvo could - while he just got to shove himself inside, going by vague instinct and two years experience with Serkonan girls before her, Jessamine had to try to read him, and with his face buried in the pillows and no way to make his signs without mangling them to point of unintelligible, she really didn't have a lot to work with. This was either a brilliant idea that would go wonderfully smoothly once she settled inside, or it was going to end with Corvo on top of the chandelier, a crow roughly preening himself and ignoring her pleas to get him down.Jessamine would like it known that she's not afraid to experiment in sex. She's less willing to let it be known that she should maybe listen to Corvo a bit more when she does.





	Oh No

Corvo lay in her bed, and she took a moment to enjoy that - she always did - because Corvo wasn’t a man who sprawled out, belly-up, just for anyone. Dark-skinned, strange, Serkonan from the shape of his eyes to the hair on his legs, his arms, thick over his belly - there was a reason he tended to become a wolfhound more than any other animal, except maybe the crow he was named after. Not handsome, but she wasn’t with him for that and she liked the way he looked, besides; he was interesting more than handsome, and she’d much rather a man whose cutting cheekbones she could study for hours than a boring one everyone lusted after.

(It was just an added bonus that, if the mood took him, he would become her hound; flopping across her feet as a gawky wolfhound to keep her trapped in the armchair or in bed, skinny tail thumping the floor or the duvet whenever she gave in and scratched him behind the ears.)

He could have had anyone. He was strange-looking, yes, but anyone with enough matter between the ears knew that they would be damn lucky to have his attention. And yet he was here _for her_ ; smiling at her, languid as he waited because she was the only person he trusted enough _to_ be languid around.

For a moment she thought about asking for another minute, hiding the birthday present she’d bought herself in the cabinet under the sink. He’d give it to her, no questions asked - kissing along her jaw, nosing under her ear as he pressed her down into the pillows, when she came back out and let him wrap her up in his arms. Maybe take up the crop again - Corvo liked that. Maybe take up the crop and handle him with _cuffs_ , which he didn’t like so much but she loved. She could change her mind, too; not have sex tonight and put up with the _want_ and all the lovely images _that book_ \- the one Corvo hated most when she'd read it with him and the one no noblewoman would admit to reading, even though all of them had - for as long as she needed to talk him around to it, not springing it on him so suddenly.

She squashed it down, pulled out the harness and the whalebone dick from behind her back; either Corvo would indulge her, in which case he could enjoy it or tell her to get off and it didn’t matter which because she’d do as he told, or he’d immediately refuse and she didn’t need to worry about it, would get the crop because they both found it fun.

Corvo’s dark brows crept up his face, staring at the harness in her hands with- _was that a blush_? Looked to her. _What?_ He asked, looking very sweetly bemused. _Is this why you wanted to go out shopping the other day?_

“Yes,” She said, and handed them over for him to look over. “I’ve already adjusted the harness.”

Beneath the covers Corvo’s legs shifted, drawing beneath him a little as he sat up, making space on a bed bigger than it needed to be for her to sit close, able to watch his hands without craning her neck and _Void_ \- she hated even more the noblewomen that laughed at him behind his back, ridiculing his silence and youth and low-blood birth like a Dust District Karnacan hadn’t protected her from seven separate assassination attempts all on his own. Not even counting the amount of times he’d just disappeared from her side and came back with dead or unconscious men who were _planning_ on killing her, but hadn’t quite got everything together enough to do it.

 _Not what I’m worried about_ , He said. He ran his hands along the whalebone like he was measuring the length of a sword and Jessamine would never be able to watch him sparring the same way, sweet Void. _It’s too big._ Corvo held it up, added, _Did the guy just model this after a whale dick? It’s huge. It’ll never fit._

“You know about this?”

 _I know some things_ , Said Corvo, and it wasn’t really an answer but Jessamine let him have it. It didn’t matter, either way - maybe there was a woman who’d done it to him back in Serkonos and he just wasn’t comfortable talking about it. Maybe he was just embarrassed that he’d _wanted_ to do it - she watched his cock twitch against his leg when she took the harness and showed off the black leather against her legs - enough to learn about it, because he got embarrassed about the strangest things. _It won’t fit, I’m telling you now. I’ll be torn open and then where’ll we be? This really was made for whales wasn’t it?_ He added, looking back to the dildo. _Are these ridges not worrying you?_

She pat his knee. “It’ll be fine, I know what to do.” And she did, she really did.

The man in the shop had been a short, squat little older man with a very kind face and an obvious fondness for food and an even more obvious fondness for the man in the workshop behind a curtain that she was certain was closer to that of a husband to a wife than just friends, but that didn’t much matter. He was nice, anyway - didn’t seem to mind that Jessamine had a scarf hiding her face, only patted her hand when she told him what she was looking for and said that after  _that book_ became popular a lot of noblewomen had come into his shop and wanted the same, asked what size she wanted and if she knew how to use it properly. When she told him she only knew the bare bones he gave her a book and sent her back to Corvo waiting patiently outside.

She had read the book - it was, if she was going to be honest, closer to a pamphlet than anything else - in between her birthday celebrations when she had to pretend to pay attention to all the fawning, and enjoyed a lot more the private celebrations with Corvo where she asked him to stay on his back and tried fingering him a little, see if he’d like it. And he did, so that was a good sign, and even better was that he wasn’t outright saying _no_ , just maybe asking for the smaller dildo without saying it out loud because he was embarrassed. Cute little thing - gangly as a hound pup, dun skinned and ripped up by hundreds of scars, and a dick bigger than most had him squirming a little, making jokes to hide his nervousness.

“It’ll be fine,” She repeated, and Corvo - maybe trusting that she did know or maybe he figured that if anything went wrong he could use use the opportunity to swear at her with impunity then turn into a dog or a rat and hide beneath the bed - rolled to his front, shoving a pillow beneath his hips.

It was the best permission she was going to get, and least she was a little familiar with this; wetted her fingers with the oil in the top drawer, slipped them inside first one and then two and, eventually, a third while Corvo hid his face in his forearm and got himself hard for her. She slipped the toy through the ring and settled it on her hips, the weight and feel of it strange but, then, she’d done a lot of strange things to Corvo to find out what they both liked. Jessamine really didn’t understand why Corvo mostly just liked tucking his face to her throat - something about the closeness? Being hers? She’d been too worn-out to pay attention - and she didn’t know why tying him up with ropes turned her on as much as it did. Maybe it was just that sex was strange on its own, and everything else just took on that strangeness.

More oil, she thought. Could never be too safe, and the warm gleam of Corvo’s black eye watching her slick up the toy said that he appreciated it.

Void, how did Corvo do it so easily? Be so eager and happy and utterly unselfconscious as he climbed on top of her? Corvo couldn’t even _see_ her and she was blushing like a nervous virgin! Jessamine rubbed her face, trying to smooth away the embarrassment she could feel stinging hot on her cheeks; nudged the tip inside him and watching the whole length of him clench like a fist.

The dick was tapered, at least - small and thin and pointed at the head, no larger than her two fingers had been, or even one of Corvo's. Anxiety, she decided - Corvo was kneading the sheets like a cat, same as how he’d kneaded her shoulders the first time she took him to bed. It wasn’t pain, she didn’t think. Not _quite_ , anyway, but she felt a burst of regret and annoyance at herself because Corvo couldn’t speak to her like this, on his front and burying his face in the pillows like he was going to smother himself.

Corvo twitched when she pulled out and pawed through the drawers again, put the little bell in his hand. “Just in case,” She said, watched Corvo’s knuckles go white around it as he breathed, deep and rhythmic and hitching a little when she tried again, going a bit deeper, deeper still while Corvo squirmed and mumbled voicelessly to himself, hand cupped around his dick but obviously soft.

This was more difficult than she'd thought it was going to be, and she scowled down at Corvo's strong back. She couldn't  _feel_ anything, not like Corvo could - while he just got to shove himself inside, going by vague instinct and two years experience with Serkonan girls before her, Jessamine had to try to read him, and with his face buried in the pillows and no way to make his signs without mangling them to point of unintelligible, she really didn't have a lot to work with. This was either a brilliant idea that would go wonderfully smoothly once she settled inside, or it was going to end with Corvo on top of the chandelier, a crow roughly preening himself and ignoring her pleas to get him down.

He gasped a little at the first ridge, heaving himself up on his elbows and changing the curve of his spine, rubbing his back and shaking his head a little. Jaw tight, eyes shut; an ache? A sting? She couldn't see any blood when she pulled out a little, slid it back in. Perhaps she was just making an injury flare up a little. He still didn’t ring the bell, though, so Jessamine braced herself over him as best she could and rubbed his back, all along the broad expanse from hip to shoulder, sliding her fingers through his thick hair and scratching along the back of his head, trying to soothe him through the worst of it. A bit further in, a little more, up to the second ridge now and Corvo bit his hand and rang the bell.

“Alright,” She told him, smoothing her palm up his back again, frowning at the muscle tightly bunched beneath his skin, iron solid. “Alright Corvo, hold on.”

She didn’t get anything out of hurting him, not like that. He might like the crop but he _had not liked_ her hand or a soft, worn slipper, or anything else she’d tried on him, so she didn't use them. There was a difference between hurting him when he asked her to and hurting him when he asked her to stop, and this was a kind of hurting him that the bell singing from his hand - dull and tuneless from how hard he was holding on - said he couldn't handle. Corvo couldn’t force himself through it, not like he could cuffs and ropes; she would be the worst person in the world to force him to take more when he couldn’t.

Only… “Corvo? Could you relax a little?” She couldn’t pull it out, not without ripping it out. Corvo made a rude gesture at her, but he breathed a little deeper, a little more deliberate, and some of the tension went out of him as she smoothed his back, tried again but _still_! “It’s stuck. Outsider’s fucking eyes, it’s stuck, Corvo I’m so _sorry_.”

Oh this was terrible, this was the worst thing she’d done to him - more than the time she convinced him to let her bind him up beneath his uniform and made him sit through a dinner with a dignitary! Oh, this was bad, this was very, very bad.

The harness came loose easily while Corvo stuck his head under the pillow, shoving it tight around his ears, and she got more oil from their drawer and tried adding a bit more, because _maybe_ that was part of the problem? A tug, and Corvo went _rigid_ with discomfort but the dildo stayed exactly where it was. Maybe he could have tried making himself into something bigger, but she thought Corvo'd said something once about needing focus and his glance at her said that he absolutely _couldn't_ do that - he barely even seemed able to snarl at her, glaring fiercely.

She was out of ideas except to get help. “I’ll fetch Sokolov,” She told him, patting his elbow before she pulled a robe about her shoulders and dashed off.

Sokolov _wasn’t pleased_ when she found him in the Royal Physician's quarters fast asleep and dragged him to her bedroom, and Corvo even less so because he refused to come out from his hiding place to answer questions, but neither of them said anything, or looked at each other, or at her.

Of course Sokolov recognised Corvo, what they’d been doing. He’d patched Corvo up after a fight often enough that he knew some of the scars on his back better than Jessamine did, and he wasn’t like any of those reclusive old hermits working away in solitude with only an old maid to take care of them - he’d been places, done things, had an appetite that horrified and enthralled the nobles in equal measure.

He bared his teeth in amusement, but said nothing.

Well, good. He could be amused all he liked as Jessamine sat next to Corvo - sliding her hand through his hair, tracing the shell of his ear, just to distract him a little - so long as he sorted it out. Oh, but poor Corvo, she thought - rubbing the back of his neck beneath the pillow. Her poor dear. She'd have to buy him some whiskey to apologise - the cheap stuff he seemed to favour, even over the nicer bottles; another thing he kept from his days in Serkonos, a young Grand Guard soldier with barely two coins to rub together. He must have been terribly handsome in that uniform.

Jessamine shook the thoughts away, stroked Corvo’s bare shoulder while he suffered under the pillow; politely looked away from where Sokolov was working. Corvo obeyed the poking and the prodding with only an occasional sign at Jessamine, rude and annoyed and meaning it _now_ because he was hurt and embarrassed and like wolfhounds he always meant his snarls when he was hurt or embarrassed, but it would go away soon enough. He never stayed angry with her for very long, and when he did it was because it was an old argument, old worries and fears and a terror he’d never really shared with her entirely about Karnaca and the bloodflies and his sister that he loved and his mysterious family still living in Serkonos, farmers except for his mother who turned her back on them.

Sokolov managed to sort it out soon enough, and cleared his throat. His teeth were still bared.

“There,” Said Sokolov, wrapping the toy up in a towel and throwing it into a large box. Fixed her with a steely glare as he shoved the box under the bed, and Jessamine was a grown woman, and an empress, but she felt all of five years old beneath it. “I don’t want to be dragged out of bed for this again, you hear? Give it a month before you try again. If he’ll let you,” He added with a nasty laugh, turning to leave.

Jessamine ignored him as she opened the door for him, closed it tight behind him and latched it before she retreated back to Corvo's side. Corvo, in turn, rolled awkwardly to his back.  _I hate you,_ He said.  _I told you it was a terrible fucking idea, but no. No I let you talk me into it, same as that dinner with the Tyvian what's-his-face and the ropes and you smiling at me and you rubbing my cock when he was right there talking at me._  His hands went very still, and Jessamine smiled gently at his still-covered head as she sat next to him - she didn't need to see it to know there was a very displeased little moue on his face, same as the one he'd worn as a cat caught in the rain. _It was that fucking book wasn't it?_

She said nothing, and Corvo huffed at her, obvious as he could.  _I hate you,_ He said again, finally coming out from hiding and scowling very fiercely when he noticed Jessamine pressing a hand to her mouth.  _Don't laugh!_ He said, an outraged flair to his hands.  _If you've ruined my ass I'm going to turn into a rat and stick my cold little rat hands on you when I find you asleep._

"I'm not laughing my love!"

He shoved his freezing toes into her belly and  _that absolute fuck_ he chased her squealing from the bed; settled back into the pillows looking smug.  _I will,_ He warned, grinning at her.  _I'll turn into a wolfhound and go out in the rain, and then I'm coming back in and I'm going to lie on you and make you smell like wet dog all day._

"Don't you _dare_!"

 _Tiny fucking rat hands,_ He warned,  _If you've ruined my ass for me. If you haven't then I'm just going to lie on you and make you pick fluff from your trousers all day, no wet dog smell. And if you were smart and got a tiny cock like sensible people get when they try something like this for the first time, maybe I'll let you try again._ He caught her and pulled her down, turned away from a kiss to keep looking smug about the fact he'd kicked her from her own bed, however much he was  _graciously_ accepting her back into it, but didn't stop her settling down against him, petting the dark hair on his belly, the long scars from swords and the tiny little patches from bolts and bullets.  _I should stop listening to you when you tell me you know what you're doing; you're good at empressing, my love, but kinky shit?_

She smacked his chest. "Oh, like you're any better," She groused. "Remember a few years ago? You _broke_ the bed - and don't tell me it was already falling apart, _dear Corvo_ ," She said, watching Corvo start to make the signs. "It was old, true, but it was still a _bed_ , and you  _broke_ it."

 _Don't like cuffs,_ He said, nuzzling into the top of her head.  _And if you're going to keep bringing that up - you broke a door off its hinges because you pushed me against it so hard the screws popped loose, and then the guards came in because it sounded like an assassin threw me into it, and we had to sit through an hour - a fucking hour - of Burrows telling us about how we nearly gave him a heart attack because of our 'roughhousing unbecoming of an empress and her Protector'._

"Agree to disagree."

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, the full one-shot behind [chapter 15 of _Return to Reluctant Home_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17477216/chapters/42122996), just because thinking about Jessamine being terrible at kinky sex is funny to me - I'm easily amused.


End file.
